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A while later I let myself in through the tall iron gates that guarded Locke Manor, my mouth still burning from the scalding hot soup I’d forced down before I left. The house was ablaze with light, a pattern of squares scattered across the lawn from the rooms above – it looked as though every room in the house was lit up, giving the whole building an inviting warmth that the symmetrical Georgian facade lacked during the day.

A large, dark stain marred the smooth limestone of the front step, and I edged around it to knock on the door. Isabel answered immediately. She wore her customary black – a knit top that hung loose around her collarbones and cigarette trousers – but something in her had shifted. Maybe it was how she lingered in the doorway, or the way her usual sharp edges seemed softer in the hallway light.

“Erin, come in.” She smiled more warmly than she had the last time we’d spoken, but I was sure there was something in her face I was misreading. Her quick, appraising look took in my jacket – Nicholas’s leather jacket, to be more precise – without comment. I wasn’t sure what had made me wear it, really.

“What did you do with the body?” I asked, as I followed her into the kitchen. A fire had been lit in the stove, and the room was stiflingly warm.

“I did what had to be done, since I was left to deal with it. Nick fled at the sight of her – to check on your welfare, I presume – and Adam came over conveniently squeamish.” She looked to the heavens. “It really was a most bizarre thing to awaken to – why someone would go to the effort to display her that way, propped up with her limbs spread-eagled so unnaturally, I do not know.”

I grimaced, but Isabel was still talking.

“… so I left her in the park for another to find.”

She paused, watching me from across the breakfast bar. “I might have burned her in the garden, but I suspected you might disapprove.” Turning to the drawer behind her, she rummaged around for a moment. “Do you wish to keep this?”

It was my yellow hat. Lovely. I didn’t know what was more offensive – her casual treatment of a dead body, or the insensitivity of offering the bloodstained piece of wool to me. I settled on the former.

“You left her in the park? You didn’t try to find out who she was, or let her family know? Anything?” I could hear the shrillness in my words, but I didn’t care.

She gave me a warning look. “What more could I do? Think carefully before you answer. ”

She’s right. Anything else would draw suspicion.

“I suppose you couldn’t really take her to the hospital or call the police…” I admitted. “It’d look like you had something to do with it.”

“Very much so. Should I dispose of this?” She waved the hat again.

I recoiled. “Yes, thank you.”

To my relief, Adam walked into the kitchen, saving me from an awkward apology.

“Erin! I’m glad you’re here.” His usual easy manner faltered as he glanced at Isabel, reminding me how he’d denied they were friends. That was definitely a story I needed to hear.

I smiled back. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

The silence stretched. My eyes wandered the room, landing on the warm wooden countertops and professional-grade appliances. “Nice kitchen. I meant to say before…”

“Indeed.” Adam straightened the cuffs of his grey suit, his movements precise. “Though lately its contents suggest different ownership.” He pulled open the fridge door, revealing neat rows of medical blood bags.

“You don’t prefer… fresh?” I asked Isabel.

“My feeding habits remain my own affair,” Isabel said coldly, closing the fridge with enough force to make Adam step back. She crossed back over to me. “Incidentally, I assume you donate?”

I shot a look between them. Adam shrugged, but Isabel had already lost interest in my response, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

“Isabel?” I waved a hand in front of her .

“What is he doing now?” She murmured, seemingly to herself.

“Who? Nick?” Adam asked, watching her with interest.

She vanished. Adam switched off the kettle with a weary sigh. “Shall we?”

We followed the sweep of the main staircase, its original elegance somehow enhanced by Adam’s modern touches. The landing stretched in both directions, a line of mysterious closed doors that made my fingers itch to explore. But we headed for the iron spiral staircase at the centre.

The landing narrowed at the top of the house, and it was darker here than below. Isabel stood silhouetted in the last doorway, moonlight from the garden window casting her shadow across the carpet. A rhythmic thudding echoed down the hall, accompanied by the rustle of paper and fabric.

Nicholas was a blur as he darted between two enormous trunks, the air stirring with dust and the smell of old leather as he sorted their contents. Books were strewn carelessly across the floor.

“Are you going somewhere?” Adam frowned, blue eyes following him as he moved from one to the other.

Nicholas didn’t look up, but examined the binding of a leather-bound book, before throwing it carelessly onto the floor behind him with a thud.

“He’s running away,” Isabel explained, her tone condescending. “Again.”

“I’m no running , Izzie.” His voice was tight, and his movements were less controlled than usual. “But lurin’ away the danger might be the only move we have left.” His eyes met mine for a heartbeat before slipping away, but I caught the warmth and pain in his eyes. “Unless you’ve miraculously figured out who’s targeting us since the sun set?”

The urgency of his earlier kiss suddenly made sense. Of course. He’d been saying goodbye. I said nothing, but something inside my chest contracted.

“I suppose it might work…” Adam nodded slowly. I glared at him, and he shrugged.

“No.” My whisper carried in the silence. “This isn’t just about you. Running won’t fix anything.”

“The deaths were arranged to look like my work – the first victim my relative, then a redhead like—” He couldn’t meet my eye. “And now your double? I have to keep ye safe, and I cannae watch over ye day and night as I’d like.” There was an edge of desperation in his voice.

I looked to Isabel for support. “Tell him he’s being ridiculous.”

She crossed her arms. Her gaze sharpened, measuring me against some hidden standard.

“Isabel?” I didn’t want to ask again.

She exhaled heavily. “You are being ridiculous, Nick.”

Phew.

“You can’t leave.” I took a step into the room, and he slowed enough for me to see what he was up to.

Beside each trunk was a neat pile of books, all similar in shape and size, the leather worn and faded. Some had a small brass lock on the front, others were hand bound and tied closed with knotted lengths of leather. He added another to the pile, discarding several beautifully embroidered books that wouldn’t have been out of place in a museum.

“It’s no forever,” he replied, closing the lids of the trunks and locking them. “Only til we ken what’s happenin’ here, and we’ve learned enough to thwart the bastard.” He straightened up. “I cannae guarantee how long it’ll take, but with me gone, you neednae worry about being attacked, at least.

“These are my diaries,” he gestured to the neat pile of books, a ghost of his wry smile touching his lips. “They’re no exhaustive, and it’s true there’re long gaps in some o’ them – but they might help ye in the right direction.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off them. Fuck . A month ago, a resource like that would have been priceless – we’d never had anything like it. Tom would have sold his soul to get his hands on that kind of knowledge. Except now, despite my curiosity, I sort of hated them.

They were a symbol of Nicholas’s disinterest in staying here – with me. And I already had an idea of the horrific events I’d find inside. Of course I wanted to know more about him. but I had a feeling that reading those books would leave a nasty taste in my mouth, and my acceptance of my shiny new feelings was still too fresh for me to want to taint it that way.

“Surely your memory would serve as well, Nick?” Isabel asked, folding her arms and resting her slender frame against the open door.

“Aye, it might, but I dinnae intend to be here to share it; as you’ve so cleverly deduced,” he retorted .

“What do you think leaving is going to do, exactly?” I asked, trying to keep the anger and building anxiety out of my voice. “How is that helpful?”

“We thought the killer was trying to draw your attention,” he explained. “Now we know we were wrong.”

Isabel scoffed. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

“Why else would the lass have looked like Erin, if no to taunt me?”

I caught Adam’s wry look out of the corner of my eye, and ignored him.

“Nick,” he said flatly. “She resembled Erin because any dolt can see how you care for her. But while I don’t doubt the events of today were distressing for you, I am sure they were almost as unnerving for Erin.” I could almost see Adam hold back his eye roll. “I confess, I’m a little offended no corpse has yet to resemble me , actually. But then, who could compare?” He smirked, but quickly became serious again.

“Do be logical about this – you must know Erin is no safer with you gone.”

“You won’t lure them away, anyway—” I added.

“It may only widen the span of destruction,” Isabel finished.

Nicholas dragged a worn black duffel bag from under the bed without looking at any of us. “You cannae know that.”

“I think we do know, Nick,” Isabel said, incensed. “Jonathan’s death was to hurt you. All of this has been to hurt you – including hurting Erin. The entire scenario has been orchestrated from the start to bring you here, to a van?tor that may actually challenge you, for once.” She spared me a glance, and I took the compliment without comment.

“If, as I suspect, the perpetrator has discovered that Erin has no interest in killing you, then it only follows that their plans have had to adapt accordingly.”

My chest tightened at Isabel’s words. She was right. Everything that had happened came back to Nicholas – not to me. I might have lost friends, but my grief hurt Nicholas almost as much as it did me. And now, seeing him prepare to leave… “That’s why you were the recipient this time. They’re trying to break you down. Manipulate you into doing something you’ll regret.”

“You can’t deny, it’s clever,” Adam said quietly. “Rather what one might have expected from you in centuries past.”

Nicholas shook his head, a wayward lock of dark hair falling into his face. He pushed it back in agitation.

“To stay might at least limit the damage. Wherever you go – whoever you might call upon for sanctuary – would only become involved themselves,” Isabel said.

“And tell me, Isabel – is my being here keepin’ Erin’s family safe? Did it keep those lasses safe? My last livin’ descendant?” He answered. “If I leave, it might show them I dinnae—”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but I knew what he meant. That you don’t care.

Isabel shrugged. “Were I in their position, I should consider your departure cause to make a grander gesture,” she responded. “Perhaps dispose of Erin or Adam to make my intentions clear.”

I bristled. “Not to undermine your point, Isabel, but I can take care of myself. ”

“Yes. But so far, yourself is the only person you’ve been able to take care of.” Isabel raised one eyebrow at me. “No offence.”

Ouch . She was right, though. Everyone I should have been protecting had been hurt. More than that, a complete stranger had died today just because she had the misfortune to look a little like me – and there was fuck all I could do about it.

Nicholas leaned against the carved bedpost of the massive four-poster, his impossibly long legs stretched before him. The ivory sheets lay rumpled and unmade, and as they shifted beneath him, the faintest trace of his earthy pine scent reached me from across the room. It was strange to think of vampires needing ordinary human stuff like beds, though I guess it wasn’t really an ordinary room.

“They might hurt her to bring me back,” he repeated to himself. “It worked last time. They were here before I was.”

“ Yes .” Relief flooded through me. “And maybe there’s something in that we can use against them – let them think they’ve got us cornered. But right now, we’re wasting time.”

His eyes burned as they met mine. “I dinnae like feelin’ so… powerless.”

“I know.” I murmured. “So let’s do something about it.” I crossed the room and grabbed his hand, thrilled at my own daring. His eyes widened, and that familiar half-smile touched his lips. “Tryin’ to save me too, now, eh?” he asked lightly, his fingers curling around mine. I looked to the others.

“I think we can all agree we’re not exactly a step ahead, here. I have no idea where they’re getting their information from, but nowhere feels safe anymore. ”

I looked to Adam. “You’re rich, right? Are you paranoid too?”

He frowned delicately, and I had to laugh. “Do you have anywhere in the house that’s more secure?”

Adam glanced at Nicholas. “The library, perhaps? I’m – ah – rather protective of my collection.”

I grinned. “Perfect. I’d forgotten you had a library,” I lied. “Not too shabby.”

Isabel’s laughter was a delicate tinkle in the air. “You should see his other properties,” she grinned. “Follow me.”

We followed her back down the spiral stairs and toward a set of huge, heavy oak doors at the end of the first floor hallway. Isabel strode ahead and flung them open with unnecessary drama. I stifled a chuckle at the clichéd image, tugging Nicholas along behind me, a bemused expression still lining his face.